


Walk About in Freedom

by tvivel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Fluff, Kink, Light BDSM, Lingerie, M/M, Orgasm Control, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8197538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvivel/pseuds/tvivel
Summary: Sometimes Dean needs someone to take over, someone to help him cope with the world and the responsibility he carries on his shoulders. Sometimes he needs to place his trust in the hands of another. Castiel is the one who comes when Dean needs it the most.





	

_Please, come._ The words Castiel hears in his head are short and simple, but he understands the underlying meaning. He doesn’t immediately transport to Dean’s room, though. He gives him a few minutes to himself, time for anticipation. Castiel knows well enough how Dean likes that. He indulges him as often as he can.

When he comes to the latest place the Winchesters have been occupying, Dean is kneeling at the foot of the bed, naked, with his eyes cast down, a collar around his neck, and his wrists cuffed behind his back. The key is dangling between his lips, for Castiel to take.

“Dean,” Castiel says as a greeting, fond as always. The trenchcoat goes on the hanger by the door, and the shoes right below it, to their appropriate place. He walks up to Dean, puts his hand under his chin to catch the falling keys. Dean, as expected, doesn’t say anything until Castiel adds, “Talk to me.”

“Bad day. Sam was injured. He’s fine now, but I--Everything feels so--”

“Yes, love? Tell me.”

“Horrible. It feels horrible, and I feel hopeless. I need to forget. I need you.”

It used to take a while to get Dean to admit that, to tell Castiel clearly and concisely how he feels. Castiel nods and says, “Look at me.” Dean’s eyes snap up, hungry and eager, and so, so sad. “Everything is going to be fine. Leave it to me.”

It’s a cue, and Dean takes it well, going quiet, his eyes cast down again. Tension still runs through his whole posture, and Castiel instructs him to sit crosslegged on the bed. He puts the key on the nightstand - he doesn’t need it, but he likes the human touches, and the symbolic transfer of power through the transfer of the key.

Castiel sits behind him, warm hands trailing over the taut back in front of him. This is just to calm Dean, relax him enough to proceed with the rest. He works the muscles until Dean is letting out soft little whimpers, until he’s slumped and pushing against Castiel’s hands, warmed with the heat of his grace.

After he pulls away, he strips off the rest of his clothing, all except his boxers, placing the items neatly on a desk chair. Everything is done in silence, until Castiel starts talking again. Dean follows his orders without hesitation, all through the ritual of sorts which they have developed. It eases Dean’s mind to be freed from responsibility, his thoughts and choices nothing but a murmur in the back of his mind, and Castiel knows it very well.

Sometimes it’s not sexual, sometimes it is. It depends on what strikes Castiel’s fancy at the time, and the underlying emotions he reads off Dean. Sometimes Dean will do something as simple as bathe him, use his hands in slow motions on every inch of Castiel’s skin, and in his hair. He gives special attention to the hair. Sometimes Dean will be the one to sit in the bath and relax against Castiel’s gentle pressure. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as Castiel is the one voicing all directions. Castiel will always give Dean what he wants, even if sometimes he will make him beg for it.

This time, he wants to do just that. He frees Dean’s hands from the wrist cuffs so Dean can dress. When Castiel first heard of Dean’s blushing confession that he liked wearing women’s clothing, he was confused. Castiel learned before that, through observation, that men and women often had differences in their attire. But the level of embarrassment was unexpected, so Castiel assured him that, no, he didn’t find it ‘weird’ and yes, it would be amazing if he could see Dean in it. Castiel likes him in all clothes, as well as out of them, so that’s not a problem for him.

Now, it’s already practiced and runs smoothly. Castiel tells Dean which clothes to wear - he’s partial to the deep green lace panties with a crotch slit that lets Dean’s penis through it (Dean’s hard cock is a thing of beauty) but this time he chooses the little black lace ones without the slit, and a matching garter belt, with stockings. Dean gets hard just putting the lingerie on, so when he exits the bathroom, his cock is straining against the thin, black fabric. 

"So beautiful, Dean," Castiel tells him, which makes Dean blush. He's still embarrassed by compliments, and Castiel finds it endlessly endearing - and of course, he exploits that blush whenever he can. "Lie on the bed."

It's time for Castiel to touch. His fingers slide and trace muscles, all the curves and dips, all the scars marring the surface which Dean doesn't want healed. Every blemish is a memory. Castiel uses his mouth to lick and bite for a long time, kiss along the line of the panties until the skin is damp and shiny, Dean's cock straining so hard that Castiel's sure the lace will leave imprints of the head. Clear fluid is leaking from the tip, and Castiel laps at it, making a pleased sound. " _Cas_ ," Dean keens, looks at him with wide, green eyes pleading for more. 

Castiel's fingers dig into Dean's thighs. "Shhhh," he says firmly. "No words." He looks up at him and Dean nods quickly. There's an apology that Dean's just about to utter, but he bites it off. Usually he lasts longer, he's not so desperate, but still Castiel doesn't hurry. He leaves marks in his wake, the skin under him scratched, bitten, red after the mix of gentle and rough touches. It's equally marked with Castiel's grace and emitting a pale blue glow in the shape of hand and finger prints. They'll fade eventually, and Castiel will leave them again and again. 

_Make me feel alive, please. Cas, please._

Castiel chuckles, and in a second Dean's body flips around, his legs spread wide, ass up in the air. Castiel grabs it in a strong grip with both hands, making Dean moan loudly. "You once said, be careful what you wish for."

Dean doesn't say anything else, but another moan confirms he approves of the treatment. He loves it as much when Castiel is gentle as he does when he's rough, when he uses his powers to manhandle him. Castiel used to be careful with that, too afraid Dean would dislike feeling like he was being bent to his will, but now Dean trusts him, inexplicably, and sometimes Castiel indulges. It has its advantages, obviously. He slaps Dean's ass in a playful manner - yes, he understands the slapping now, but prefers not to use it anyway, except playfully, when Dean is misbehaving. Talking to him mentally is still talking without permission, and Dean knows it full well. He can be obedient in all ways, but talking gets him in trouble all the time. 

A litany of praises passes Castiel's lips as he touches and marks the tan skin under him. From the back of his neck to the soles of Dean's feet, there is something left behind. Castiel likes it, likes to claim every inch he stitched together after hell. It's wondrous and fills him with awe that a human like Dean would submit to his claim over and over again. Many a time Castiel stays awake at night while Dean sleeps, content and sated, and he asks himself what in the millennia of his life he could have done that was so good to deserve this, and he comes up with nothing except the same millennia of mistakes. Nothing whatsoever deserving of the trust Dean places in him, which makes Castiel cherish it even more. 

Dean loves being claimed like this even more than Castiel, making sounds he would call downright sinful. He's shameless in it, and Castiel never makes him quiet it down, not even when he fucks him at a gas station, rushed and hard against a rusty, old toilet stall for any random passerby to hear. In fact, it just makes him go faster and harder. 

Right now, Dean's whimpering and moaning, trembling as he clutches the thin bedsheets and pulls at them desperately. He's not allowed to come, and Castiel reminds him with a sharp bite to his inner thigh and a snap of the garter belt strip against his skin. That elicits another needy moan which borders on a word, and Castiel growls. "Be good, gorgeous."

Dean's nod is frantic, and he arches his back, pushing his ass up in the air to present it to Castiel as an invitation. Castiel smiles at it but does nothing Dean is clearly asking for. He slides his hands up Dean's legs, over the smooth surface of the stockings, up to the lace top clipped to the garter belt. He likes it. It's sensual and the texture arouses him. He doesn't know precisely why, but it does. Dean is the most beautiful person Castiel has ever seen, but when his muscle is wrapped in delicate fabric and exquisite lace, he's even more so. 

"Turn around," Castiel says, and Dean's already rolling over like he predicted the command. "Yes, beautiful... marked mine, and ready for me to take. Isn't that so?"

"Yes, _yes_ , please," Dean blurts out, like he's been waiting for a question like that and the words have been trapped on the edge of his lips for an eternity. 

"Prepare yourself for me."

Dean reaches for the lubricant on the nightstand and opens the tube, slicking his fingers before pushing two inside himself after moving the panties to the side, making himself moan and fuck on the digits. Castiel stands, leaning against the door, and observes. It's a sight always worth seeing, and Castiel wishes he could take a picture so he could gaze at it whenever he wants, because his memory, no matter how good or far-reaching it is, always falls short. But he's more than happy to give himself this in real life, so pictures aren't really necessary.

He yearns to find his way inside Dean, to touch him and feel the innermost parts of him, the heat of him surrounding his vessel. He craves the moment when he can make Dean's body quiver under him again. This, though, this is good, too. Castiel watches three fingers breach Dean's opening, and he's pressing against his prostate with unbridled need, his head thrown back, exposing his neck, and the long line of his whole body curved and tensed like a guitar string ready to be plucked, ready to sing for Castiel. 

Dean is losing himself in it, will continue until Castiel stops him with a word or a hand on him. Castiel walks closer slowly, runs his fingers up Dean's knee, and the hand Dean has under himself moves to the side of the bed. Invisible restraints wrap around his ankles and wrists, binding him to the bed with just enough give to leave some flexibility of movement. That alone makes Dean keen and arch, pushing against the restraints. 

Castiel makes himself comfortable and laps at the clear fluid at the tip of Dean's cock again, before telling him how good he tastes and how amazing he looks. Dean needs it, since his embarrassment is still present when he dresses like this. He loves it but the perceived notions he has tied to it still bother him, no matter how much Castiel tries to make him know it doesn't matter to him. Apparently, there is a whole number of men who get aroused by the idea of being forced into female clothes and being addressed with pejoratives in order to be humiliated. Humanity is still a mystery. 

Dean isn't a mystery, not right now. He's hard and aching to be fucked. Castiel gives in, as always, looking into his green eyes which are pleading with him without words. He releases his ankles for a moment so he can position him, then gets rid of his own restrictive underwear. He doesn't waste time anymore, bending down to catch Dean's lips into a hungry kiss. He bites and licks his way and Dean gives into it immediately. Castiel growls low and hungry, leaving Dean's red, spit-slicked lips in order to bite down his neck. As he's doing this, he lines up to enter Dean slowly. 

At the first feeling of connection, Dean moans loudly and Castiel calls him a slut fondly, in a murmur against his pulse point. Dean hears it and smiles. "Always for you, Cas."

Castiel holds his jaw firmly in his hand. "What was it I said about speaking first?"

"Don't?"

"Don't." He pushes inside at such a slow pace that Dean's getting impatient, trying to rock his hips forward. "You keep disobeying me on that."

"What are you gonna do, spank me?"

"You aren't supposed to like your punishment, Dean. That's why it is called punishment. I'm thinking the real kind."

"You wouldn't," Dean says, his eyes large, even as he tries to fuck himself on Castiel's cock. 

"You know I would," Castiel says, recalling numerous times when he did punish Dean, sometimes in very creative and amusing (to him, sometimes) ways. It mostly comes down to frustrating Dean for longer amounts of time. "If you don't stay silent like I told you to, you won't be allowed to come starting tomorrow, for a whole week." He raises his eyebrow. "Do you want to test me on this?"

Dean shakes his head violently, his lips pressed firmly together, wide eyes still looking at him, and cock throbbing with how much he's enjoying Castiel taking charge of him. It's not that Castiel hates when Dean speaks - it's exactly the opposite - but it's just that one thing which Dean has trouble with giving up at times, one thing that lands him into problems. 

"Good boy." Castiel grins and Dean's eyes flash in a way that says he's _not a boy, dammit, Cas_. Yet he's still got that hitch in his breath that betrays him. Castiel rewards him with a kiss as he bottoms out inside the tight heat, and reaches to palm his cock through the constricting panties. It's hard and hot and makes Castiel sigh when he feels it. He closes his eyes, a small smile playing upon his lips. 

Castiel starts fucking into him slowly, building it up and up to a hard pounding that leaves both of them breathless and sweaty. Dean's arching up, pulling on his restraints and making such needy, inhuman sounds. Castiel has long since perfected this, and he uses his skill to the best of his ability, to make Dean feel blissfully good. He likes to get him restless and wild, and his soul glowing bright and hot as if it wants to merge with Castiel's grace forever. It's a thought best left for Castiel's deepest fantasies. 

Lips and teeth go up Dean's neck to claim him, rough and demanding, sometimes so hard they might draw blood, but in the haze of pleasure, it only feels good to both of them, as they moan and writhe in a rhythm they've practiced long ago. 

Dean pleads with his body, pleads for release that Castiel doesn't give yet. But he will, there's no question there. He will, when Dean gets to that point when desperation peaks and his body is no longer humming, but shaking with the need to have release. 

Castiel kisses Dean's slack lips, still stroking him as Dean pushes into it. If Castiel wants, they can go like this for hours, but even without using his powers to slow Dean's orgasm, it can take a while, because Dean is excellent at holding off all by himself. There's a freedom in letting go and giving in to pure pleasure and lust, and Castiel helps Dean find it until all his worries fall away.

Both of them are lost in their worlds, and Castiel savors it for as long as he can, pressing more and more scorching kisses to Dean's skin. By now, he's saying words in languages far more ancient and sacred than English. The tightness around his cock is getting overwhelming, and Castiel doesn't want to fight it. He laces their fingers together and brings their hands down, making the last restraints release themselves. Dean arches up and cries out, his legs a vise around Castiel's waist, and Castiel feels how much he wants to burst at the seams. "Come, Dean. Come for me, love." He barely finishes the first sentence and Dean is already screaming his name, cock jerking as he comes hot between them. He's red and panting, eyes closed, bruised lips open, skin damp with sweat. He's the most beautiful just like that. It's the sight, more than anything, which makes Castiel follow with his own orgasm, not any less intense. He hides his face in the crook of Dean's neck and bites at it again, breathing in the smell of clean sweat and pure _Dean_ as he tries to catch his breath. The fire inside him is lessening to a small flame, then a spark, and it leaves him feeling tired and sated. 

Still, he raises his body and looks at Dean, who has a content smile playing on his lips. He opens his eyes slowly, gazing up at Castiel. "Christ, that was.... wow. How m'ny marks did you leave this time?"

Castiel chuckles. "Many. Don't say _Christ_ , please. It's extremely strange, you know that."

"Yes..." Dean frees one of his hands and pushes at Castiel. "Off, y're heavy."

Castiel rolls to the side, keeping one leg thrown over Dean. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mmmm, 'mazing. Missed ya..." Dean turns to face him, and he has that dopey look on his face which Castiel adores. "Where'd you go?"

"Corfu."

"I wanna go t'Corfu next time."

Castiel chuckles. "Whatever you wish, love. Do you want me to clean you up?" Dean's eyelids are drooping and Castiel knows he'll be dead to the world soon enough. 

"Leave the marks til tomorrow, 'kay? Wanna see 'em."

Castiel makes the mess - and Dean's attire - vanish, then settles back down next to him. He combs Dean's hair back and kisses above his eyebrow. Dean, already mostly asleep, snuggles up to him. "Goodnight, Dean. Sweet dreams."

"Thank you," Dean replies. "F'r bein' here. Love you."

"I love you, too," Castiel whispers, and holds him close, drifting into his own half-dreams along with Dean. There's nothing better in the world than this.

**Author's Note:**

> _May your unfailing love come to me, Lord,_  
>  _your salvation, according to your promise;_  
>  _then I can answer anyone who taunts me,_  
>  _for I trust in your word._  
>  _Never take your word of truth from my mouth,_  
>  _for I have put my hope in your laws._  
>  _I will always obey your law,_  
>  _for ever and ever._  
>  _I will walk about in freedom,_  
>  _for I have sought out your precepts._  
>  _I will speak of your statutes before kings_  
>  _and will not be put to shame,_  
>  _for I delight in your commands_  
>  _because I love them._  
>  _I reach out for your commands, which I love,_  
>  _that I may meditate on your decrees._  
>  \--- Psalm 119:41-48


End file.
